


Choke

by AutisticWriter



Series: One-Word Whump Prompts [10]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Abusive Relationships, Aftermath of Violence, Anger, Angst, Blood and Injury, Choking, Dark, During Canon, Ficlet, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Restraints, Swearing, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption (2010), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: De Santa kneels before Allende with a noose around his neck, waiting for Allende to get bored with tormenting him.
Relationships: Agustin Allende/Vincente de Santa
Series: One-Word Whump Prompts [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871002





	Choke

As much as de Santa loathes busy work (going out and getting his hands dirty in ugly, violent battles with the rebels and capturing women for Allende to… use), he would honestly take any of the gruesome shit he complains about right now. Anything beats kneeling on the hard floor of Allende’s private quarters, hands bound behind his back and a chafing noose around his neck.

Blood trickles down his face, leaking from his nostril and coating his lips with the warm metallic taste he knows all too well. Still-forming bruises throb across his chest and abdomen, and he can still feel Allende’s boot smashing against his flesh, each kick punctuated by foul language and the noose chafing his skin raw.

The rope twitches, rubbing his neck again, and de Santa reluctantly follows the rope with his eyes, stopping at the loop of rope grasped in Allende’s hand. But he doesn’t raise his head higher, unable to bring himself to see the sadistic smile on the bastard’s face.

The other men call de Santa Allende’s bitch, joking taunts about what Allende does to him following him around like stinging wasps, but none of those bastards know just how accurate their spiteful comments are. The women they capture aren’t the only targets of Allende’s sick lust.

“Fucking Reyes!” Allende growls, continuing a rant he has been grumbling about all evening, ever since Reyes and his rebels fucked the army over and blew up a supply wagon full of very-much-needed ammunition. As he rants like there is nobody else in the room, Allende tugs hard on the rope, jolting de Santa as the noose tightens around his neck.

He does his best not to choke, even as he almost overbalances, steadying himself before he smacks his face into the floor. Still, de Santa splutters and chokes before he can silence the sound, shifting his knees to try and make this humiliating and uncomfortable position a bit more bearable. It doesn’t help.

Days like this are the worst; Allende, full of rage, takes his anger out on de Santa, beating him black and blue before he even thinks of taking his lust out on one of his captives or de Santa himself. The pain is always unbearable, but he can’t run away. He has to take it. Always.

And when Allende crouches down to stare right into his eyes, that horrible smirk burning into his soul, de Santa knows things are going to get worse.


End file.
